Pick Your Battles - Sigh!

Pop over to my post on Mad Manic Mamas to see what's been going on in the Expat household. And no laughing!

A prayer - please

It's not often I get all touchy feely and heart felt, but needs must. On Wednesday (29th) one of my besties, also known as blogger Lakeland Jo is up for the fight of her life.

She has blogged a little about her past few horrendous months (but not so's you'd recognise them as horrendous because Jo is one of the happiest people I have ever met), but the summary is she'll be going in to the Royal Marsden in London for a 12-14 hour op to remove a secondary cervical cancer tumour. It is a pretty mean tunour so has spread its wings quite a bit. There's a lot of clearing out to do.

Jo is a very intelligent, spiritual and religious person so I won't even try to convey her thoughts on all of this. Suffice to say, she has a fabulous husband, and a to-die-for teenage son, not to mention a distraught mother. Her belief in the power of prayer is deep, so I ask everyone to pray in their own way for the safe handling of my beloved friend Jo.

Thanks.

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Bloggers - You Just Can't Write

Loathe as I am to give Kimberley Seals Allers any more publicity, I feel I must draw your attention to her recent rant against bloggers. If it weren't so downright petty and ridiculous, it would have made my blood boil. Anyway, in typical EPM fashion, I responded to her in a post over at PowderRoomGraffiti.
Basically she's saying that because she has a degree and a Masters in journalism, she's not only a superior writer but other people (ie. bloggers) aren't, and shouldn't be clogging up the ether. Go have a read and then let me know what you think. Perhaps, with our well-written, measured responses, we can shame her into a retraction. Or not.

Paring Down - continued

Well, I say "continued" as if I've made any headway. What I have decided to do however, is use things up before I buy replacements. No more stocking up at Costco as there clearly isn't an Apocalypse on the horizon and with a corner shop less that fifty yards from my house, I'm hardly going to be really stuck for anything.
How many of you have more than one face cream/cleanser on the go? Hmmm, thought so. I knew I couldn't be the only one who doesn't finish the jar of night cream completely before opening the one I was suckered into buying because of its patented anti-something ingredients. It's not that I don't use everything up - eventually, it's just that well, I don't know. I like variety I suppose.

I am also going to refrain from buying any more Ziplock bags until I have worked my way through the FIVE boxes I already have. Why do I buy them every time I go shopping? It's not as if I even use them that much since, in an effort to be green, I wrap the boys' sandwiches in empty cereal bags.

As for gift bags - well, it might help if I actually gave them away with the gifts, but no - I keep them for something special. How insulting is that to the recipients of my presents? "I'm not going to use the really nice, sparkly gift bag for you. You can have a plain one and I'll just put a nice bow on it."

And fake tan? I have four tubes of fake tan in my closet. As we know - most of them can take on a slightly orange tint, so we're always on the lookout for the one that looks natural. Given that three of the four fake tans are presumably inferior, shouldn't I have just chucked them out? What the heck am I keeping them for? And now, of course, I can't remember which one is the good one. Pah!

Stain removers are another problem - I have about three or four in my laundry cupboard, meaning that most of them aren't removing anything. Let's face it - once your clothes have gone through the dryer not even straight bleach gets a stain out. Hopefully I won't have enough stains to get through my supply in the near future, but I shall pledge not to buy any more this decade.

So peeps - what is your guilty hoarding secret?

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Tweetering on the Brink

So I've been on Twitter about a week and I'll admit to being dragged there kicking and screaming. Apparently if I have any hope of getting another book out, I need a HUGE Internet presence. I didn't think I was doing too badly personally. I mean, if you google my name it would seem I'm absolutly everywhere.  Alas, it's all in vain unless you have "thousands" of Twits following you, to quote the Harper Collins guy who spoke at CyberMummy this summer. Frankly, I don't think I'm that interesting (sshhh - don't tell the publishers) but then neither is Tori Spelling and she's got the requisite amount of Twits tappy-lappying behind her. Stephen Fry posts a lot and he's mildly entertaining, or is that just because I heart him anyway?

Despair.

The thing is, most of the people who are following me already "know" me from the blogosphere, and the unfamiliar followers I have obtained are obviously trying to sell or promote something. (Like I'm not.) I mean why else would Haute Groupe and Insight Group be following me? And more importantly, am I expected to follow them, because I'm not.

So, it's all looking a little bit pointless at the moment. Yes, I've been able to keep up with the latest Blogadesh antics, which is a good thing, but somehow knowing what people are craving just before they go to bed seems a little bit erm, well, pointless. Don't get me wrong - it's entertaining, but hardly in the "You HAVE to be on Twitter" category really.

Clearly I still haven't got it; I'm still not realising the full potential of Twitter.

So here's a request to all you Twits, Tweeties ot whatever you're called - tell me (in 140 charcters or less, of course) what I need to know about Twitter to really gain the full benefit.

Please.

PS. I am on as ToniHargis rather than Expat Mum BTW.

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Expat Living - Lessons in Humility

If you've lived or travelled abroad, you've probably done it. Embarrassed yourself before a crowd, that is. Pop over to my column at Expat Focus to read about what I and other expat bloggers have done to cause ourselves red faces.

Sarah Palin - No Friend of Females

As a "feminist" (oooh, scary word) you'd think that, even though I am poles apart from Sarah Palin politically, I'd be pleased to have another female on the scene? Let me tell you why Palin is no friend of females over at PowderRoomGrafitti.

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Just Bring Yourselves .......Really

Nappy Valley in New York's current post prompted me to blog about something that has long bothered me as a Brit in the USA. The rigmarole surrounding inviting people to dinner or going over to their place.

As Nappy pointed out, most invitations will come with a direction as to what to bring, so just double the quantities and then bring more stuff. Bring a bottle? Bring three at the very least. Bring some nibbles? We're talking hand made appetizers or delicacies from the very expensive artisan store in the village center.  And FYI non-Americans, if you're invited over to someone's house, it is mandatory that you ask "What Can I Bring?"

This is such an ingrained response that the lovely Anne Byrn even has a book out to help you.  Called "What Can I Bring", it contains over 200 great and "easy-to-tote" dishes for any occasion. Each recipe gives "Tote Notes" explaining how best to store and carry the food, and has a "Recipe Reminders" column so that you can record where you last took the dishes and other notes. For strangers to this country, this book is great for giving you ideas of what constitutes standard American party food too.

If you're hosting Americans there are similar challenges. You may have planned each course carefully, even going so far as to pair a wine or two. You issue the invitations and with the RSVP comes the inevitable "What Can I Bring?". No amount of "just-yourselfing" can sway these people. They will wear you down with "Let me bring dessert" or "Can I bring Appetizers?" Since I never know what that might entail (it seems rude to pin them down), I usually convert the suggestion into extra wine, or crusty bread. The mistake you can make is to keep insisiting on "nothing". This causes much disress and they will still turn up with someting.

One famous occasion which appears in my book, was the first New Year's dinner I gave in the States. Everyone was instructed to bring just themselves, which must've sent one woman appoplectic as she turned up with a chocolate mousse dessert for everyone. I was equally aghast as I'd prepared a lovely orange mousse thingy (served in an almost whole orange, I'll have you know). My strategy? I just put them all out on the table and let people choose.

Lesson to foreigners in this land - Take something and accept something when we're talking about dinner invitations.


(Disclosure: Anne and I share the same agent. I have met her once and bought her book with my own money. She doesn't even know I"m writing this!)

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Day Two and It's Back to Normal

So Monday was our first real day back at school. (We have a lot of orientation and visitey things before actually getting down to it.) I was surprised at how well everyone functioned, myself included.

Day two - different story. 

First off, the Ball & Chain got up at 6am for an 8am meeting 40 miles away. For me, that hour is crucial to everyone's health and happiness, but I managed to go back to sleep for an hour.

7am - actually avoided physical contact with the Snooze button seeing as I was now the only responsible adult in the house.
Pulled on workout clothes (Oh, yes.) Brushed teeth. Avoided mirror.
Woke up Little Guy who had had difficulty getting to sleep due to motion sickness caused by over-use of new spining thing on school playgroud. (Note to teacher - he needs a day away from it.)

7.10am - Downstairs, via teens' rooms to make sure they're up. Grunts from both "Roger that".
Let dog out. Let dog in. Let dog out.
Put out dog's food.

7.15am - Realized owl hooting was dog trying to get back in. Kids fought over who should let her in. I shouted. Breakfast was thereafter eaten in silence.

7.20am - Made up packed lunches. Included delicious home-made apple/pear concotion mixed with vanilla yogurt. Sure to impress new teachers.

7.30am - Berated teen who put breakfast dish in d/w amongst clean stuff. Cloud of dust as said teen vanished in case asked to empty d/w.

7.40am - Queenager left for school. A full half hour early, but she has an exam and wants a good seat. (?)

7.45am - Little Guy brushed teeth and debated the merits and demerits of wearing same socks as yesterday because it was "too far" to his bedroom. Couldn't be bothered to argue.

7.50am - Berated same teen for not taking dog round the block. Expressed little sympathy in the medical condition of "extreme fatigue" (brought on by farting around instead of going to bed).

8.00am - Tempted to ignore phone call from Queenager "about violin" left on chair. Was assured that this won't happen for the rest of the school year. Even the Little Guy said "Oh yeah - can't wait to see that."

8.03am - Scrambled for shoes, backpack, lunch, jacket, sunglasses, phone, keys, violin, tissues (allergy season), hairbrush,. ("I don't care if Justin Bieber's hair is in his face, I'm brushing yours".)

8.05am - Left for school. Uneventful.

8.20am - Returned home. Ignored dishes on counter top. Let dog out again.

Blogged till 9am. (Tweetdeck doesn't help in getting things accomplished I have to say.)

9am-10am - Despite previous post, took dog out for an hour, trying to train her to "Heel". She's fine until she sees a squirrel so I need to find another route which avoids all trees. Pah!

And so it goes on......

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Doggone it - I'm not guilty

As you may recall, we purchased a stray mutt a few months ago. Although we love her to bits, it's not all roses.

Don't get me wrong - she's stopped pooping and weeing in the house. Well, - OK, not quite true. When the Little Guy gets up at 7am and doesn't let her out, she sometimes comes upstairs to try to wake the teens up (good luck with that) and resorts to a giant pee on the carpet outside their rooms. I did share my disappointment with her and shoved her outside to show her where she was expected to do it, but really - can you blame her?

She doesn't pull on the leash quite so much, but when she's lying quietly on the floor in the car, exhausted, (you think) after a lengthy chase of other dogs on the dog beach, she's actually chewing through yet another leash. We are seriously considering rubbing cayenne pepper along the length of the next one to see what happens.

No, the slight disappointment about the whole experience is the attitude of some people to the fact that I employed a dog lady.

Since the kids were still in term time when mutt came home, it fell to me to walk her for an hour after taking Little Guy to school every day. When the weather is fine, it's lovely. She's rather an energetic dog though, and needs another lengthy walk later in the day. That would be me walking her before picking up Little Guy at 3.10pm. Hmmm......do I really have two hours per day to walk this mutt? More importantly, since I can't jog more than about 5 miles per hour, is she really getting the exercise she needs? (You can't let your dog off the leash anywhere in Chicago. $500 fine.)

Initially, I heard about the dog lady as a solution to our totally unsoclialised dog. She must have been raised in a field on her own as she barked at every human and dog she encountered. The dog lady used to take small groups of dogs to beaches and parks for hours at a time which exercised Dusty and got her used to her pals in a safe environment. Now they go to the brand new exercise space which has indoor and outdoor areas. Dusty spends about 3-4 hours there, two or three times a week depending on my schedule. Plus, she comes back totally exhausted. (Mothers of boys - it's a bit like running them around to wear them out.)

So why the guilt? Actually, I don't feel guilty at all because I know the dog is getting really good cardio exercise which a Collie mix needs, but you'd think I'd taken up prostitution according to some of my (usually British) friends.

1. - "What was the point of getting a dog?"  (We got the dog for the kids, and they all think it's the best thing we've done. However, they have to go to school during the day - when the dog needs to be walked.)

2. "What? You can't even be bothered to walk your own dog?"

3. They don't need that much exercise. (Yes - they do, and they chew and are generally a pain in the arse when they're under-exercised.)

So, in a nutshell - off my back peeps.

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You Must Go and Read This....

Do you ever read a blog post that just takes your breathe away either because it's beautifully written, makes a great point, captures what you think but can't express as well, or is just so bloody funny that you spit your tea/wine all over the key board? I do -all the time, and I've decided to share the joy.

I know many of my readers know each other, but every so often there's someone who's not reading all the same blogs as me. (We really must get out more.) Anyway...

Drum Roll Please....

From now on, I'm going to point you in the direction of a bloody good blog every once in a while because I love good writing and my instinct is to say....

"You MUST go and read this - "

Yesterday I read this over at Pants with Names. It made me laugh louder than I have laughed for a while (and my kids were in the room.) Many of us can perfectly imagine the situation, which is why it's so funny. Fortunately, Pants was able to capture the spirit of the whole exchange on her blog.

I will attempt to develop some sort of widget to share, but seeing as how I'm crap at Photoshop and any other technical bloggy skill, this may be a while coming.

Unless of course, someone else wants to do it for me?

Until then,  go read Pants' blog.

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Like riding a bike

It's amazing what you fall back into as soon as you step foot in your native land isn't it?  People always remark that I've never picked up an American accent but my goodness I have adopted some of their ways - or at least according to my mother, who took offence at me complaining about English rainy weather. (To be fair to Americans here - they are usually the only ones in the UK not complaining about the weather.)

It was rather interesting however to notice how quickly I became re accustomed to:

- finding the @ key on an English keyboard. (It's swapped with the " key.)

- running out to bring the washing in when a dark cloud appeared.  (Actually, in many places in the USA you're not allowed to hang your washing out. And there's a petition to restore the American right to do so here. Only in America eh?)

- leaving the washing out in the rain because it would dry very quickly once the sun came out again. (This summer in Chicago was so humid that the washing would still be there now, trying to dry.)

- ironing a lot more. (The downside to line-drying.)

- driving at the speed of sound. (Or getting beeped at when I didn't.)

- other drivers letting me in when I wanted to change lanes/merge from elsewhere/get onto a main road. (I know this isn't true throughout the States, but in Chicago, other drivers would rather stick pins in their eyes than let you cut in in front of them. Even when the traffic is moving at a snail's pace. Grrr.)

- brilliant TV. (BBC America just doesn't cut it, I'm afraid.)

- not having to skimp with the Branston pickle. (I know where to buy it, but it's quite expensive.)

But now I'm back to sticking everything in the dryer and only watching the news on TV.

Time to Throw the Towel In

I've blogged before about my inability to bake; even the Little Guy confidently tells everyone that whatever I bake turns out like a hockey puck. I steer well clear of pastry endeavours these days, but cakes and bread, I still seem to think I can manage. I mean, with all the photos in those recipes, you can't really go wrong can you?

My two sons love to bake, and the Man-Child seems to have the golden touch. Anything he tries (from pound cake to cheese cake) comes out scrumptious and pleasing to the eye. The Little Guy loves to help measure things out although he's always suspiciously absent when the mess has to be cleared up.

Plus of course, when I'm in the kitchen with any of my kids, I have delusions of fabulousness in the mothering department. I mean come on - time with your offpsring and making home made stuff at the same time? Hand over that Mother of the Year award.

Sadly though, despite my enthusiasm and efforts, it may be time to throw the towel in. There's no denying my uselessness.

Last week I made a Tuscan loaf as we have a rosemary plant that is overburdened. Things went downhill from the very start when the damn yeast did nothing on top of the water. No fizz or foam as the recipe predicted. Leafing through the trouble-shooting section of the recipe book, it told me to add a bit of sugar to make the yeast froth. Still nothing. I soldiered on and made the bread anyway. It made the house smell fabulous and made me feel all holy and earthy.

The loaf did in fact increase in size when it was left to rise, and the end result was passable even though it had a bit of a yeasty taste about it. When I quizzed a bread-making friend about my epic fail, she suggested that the yeast was dead. What? I didn't know yeast could die. I mean it says Live Yeast on the packet, but I didn't really think it was mortal. I must admit however that it had been languishing in the pantry for more than a few years so yes, perhaps it's time to try the bread again with yeast that's still breathing.

Then on Friday, to alleviate the boredom that is the wait-for-the-school-term-to-begin, the Little Guy and I made a Sticky Lemon Polenta cake that I found in the Good Housekeep magazine a few weeks ago. With poppy seeds and natural yoghurt in the ingredients, it sounded yummy. All went fabulously; no spills, cuts or burns.

Turning to the instructions for the lemon icing, we read "Put the remaining sugar.....". Screech! What remaining sugar? Oh fer Pete's sake. Yes, indeed. I'd just gone and put all 9oz of sugar in the damn cake instead of 7 hadn't I? Still, we decided to leave it in the oven anyway.  Not having ever taken a cookery class in my life, I had no idea what the impact of two extra ounces of sugar would be.

I should have poured it all out and started again to avoid the disappointment on the Little Guy's face. It came out of the tin in one piece but was all dark brown on the sides and very sunken on the top.

To be fair, this is the underside, after I'd wallopped some of my frustration out of it.  Yes, the sides were rather caramelised but the middle was alright. Ish.
In the end, I mashed it all up, put some more lemon juice in the mix (to counterbalance the extreme sweetness) and we had it with ice cream. Really quite nice.

We're considering making it again - with the correct quantities!

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Noble Savage guest post on religion

I know it sounds like an odd post, but pop over to Pond Parleys to hear what Noble Savage has to say about religion and secularism in the US and the UK. Interesting points.

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Skype coulda saved me

I've been making quite a few doctors' appointments lately, (just for check-ups) and most of them have been done online. Fabulous. Instead of being put on hold, and then lost when I was put through to the appointment-making person, I can look through the available slots and pick one.

Last winter, when everyone was panicking about Swine Flu our pediatricians' web site had all the latest advice, updated daily. I'm sure this was in part, because 90% of their calls were of the should I - shoudn't I? variety, but it was much appreciated all the same.

There's a great commercial on American TV with actress Ellen Paige visiting her doctor, only to be told by the receptionist that he's in Copenhagen. No matter - he can still see his patients. Watch it here.

How fabulous would that be?  Unfortunately in the USA, there's so much liability that Skypey diagnoses are unlikely, but my goodness it would be helpful on a few occasions. Like many people I've discovered the odd bump, gristly growth or dodgy looking freckle. Obviously I get straight on the phone, only to be told in most cases, that I can come in next week. While I usually know that it won't be serious, it would be a lot easier on the nerves if someone could take a look at "it" online and tell me that it's a wart on the back of my calf (lovely). I'd still have to go in and have it burnt off with that nasty liquid gas stuff, but at least the four days of waiting wouldn't be spent chewing my fingernails off and mentally distributing my jewelry.

And if my lovely vet had joined the online ranks, I could have saved everyone a lot of time and me a very red face yesterday.

My neighbour and I were chatting over a lovely glass of Pinot G the other night. She was stroking the dog, when she suddenly invited me over to "look at this". Like any mother, my stomach did a funny flippy thing - mainly because the accountant, insurance-hating Ball & Chain had just done some huge calculation and deduced that pet insurance "would cost us more in the long run".

Anyway, there was this strange growth behind her ear, (the dog's that is). She didn't flinch when I squeezed it which gave me some comfort. Then I found one behind the other ear which gave me even more comfort since "sinister" things don't tend to grow in perfect symmetry. To be honest, I might have let it go but my neighbour kept insisting that I would never forgive myself should the dog drop dead next month.

I rang the vet, sheepishly described the "things" only to be told that I would have to come in. Pah! Given that the rather gorgeous   vet barely glanced at the "things" to diagnose them, a Skypey appointment would have sufficed. At least they didn't charge me, and he did resist the urge to suggest occasional trips to the groomers to avoid -

.....matted hair balls.

How embarrassing.

Paring Down

Still in the general mood of shaking things up, I'm also going to pare down. That usually translates as mom in a bad mood running around the house, binning anything that isn't in its proper place. This time however, I am adopting a calmer, methodical approach.

So far I have -

- looked through a pile of old handbags, and put most of them back. Three of them are clutch bags from the 1980's (I know), but they seem to be back in fashion and you just never know.......

- resisted the urge to keep two table cloths that although too small for my table, are very nice. Going to the garage/jumble sale.

- decided that one can never have too many knives and forks. For some reason I seem to have about 4 sets of cutlery/silverware all in the kitchen drawer. (God knows, I am hardly known as an entertainer of crowds.) I have sorted them out and put two sets away in plastic bags in case, erm, someone comes in the middle of the night and steals the ones still in the drawer.

- organised all my crafty stuff. Since I started blogging and pretending to writing more, I don't do nearly as much sewing, knitting and sticking things together in an artful kind of way. I'm not throwing anything out though because I am known for being able to throw together a costume or school project at the 11th hour, courtesy of my fabulous collection of feathers and fabric.

- thrown out all of the kids' last year's school work. Why they are sent home with it in the first place is beyond me.  Even the cute 6 year old stuff gets put in a big plastic container never to be seen again.I used to keep the Queenager's work in case the Man-child ever needed it to copy as reference (they tend to cover the same things), but I usually forget where it is, or (more probably) just forget about it entirely. Easier if everything just gets re-cycled.

- sorted out the gloves and mittens. That black one with the pink sparkles at the wrist doesn't fit either of the females in this house. Besides, I'm kidding myself to think that its mate will turn up after 8 years.

- put all five kitchen aprons in the laundry to give to charity. Who am I fooling to think I ever need one?
Very cleansing.

So how are you doing?

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Tender-hearted rant

Having a tender-hearted rant about the teens over at Mad Manic Mamas. I heart them really. Well, most of the time.